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Writer's Block Daily Prompt Contest "Invalid Item"
 Task:Tell the tale of a lost pet Under 500 words category ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Missing Samantha 439 words I got home that afternoon, and of course I expected to see Samantha’s waggy tail beating the air with a swish-swish-swish. But there was no wagging tail; there wasn’t even a Samantha. I looked all over the house. She wasn’t asleep in the sunshine streaming in through the glass panel door in the den. She wasn’t tucked inside the closet in the warm spot she favored. I checked all her favorite places. Samantha was gone. Poor little dog! Half-blind and totally deaf, she would be helpless if she had wondered off through an unguarded open door. A car could hit her. Another dog might attack. She’d never hear either of them. I backed out my car from the garage and toured the neighborhood, checking street drains and alleys. A couple of neighbor’s children were playing in the street two blocks over. I described my lost little golden-brown cocker spaniel. The children shook their heads. They hadn’t seen her. I hunted for hours, driving further and further, although I knew she could not possibly have walked so far. It began to grow dark. Sadly I returned home. Once there, my tears came. I slumped down into my recliner and threw the leg rest up. I sobbed openly into my cloth hankie. I kept thinking how much I would miss her, how lucky I was to have had her in my life. A clinking noise that sounded exactly like Samantha’s collar halted my blubbering. I sat up. Had I heard Samantha? Was she in the room? I bolted out of the chair and looked around. Imagination plays mean games. Once more I collapsed into the chair and heaved the foot rest up. I tossed the throw blanket over my lap, needing it more for Linus-type comfort than for warmth. Then I heard the noise again -- the clinking noise. Where was it coming from? It came again. The sound was coming from under the chair! Carefully, without pushing down on the leg rest, I stood up. I found Samantha under my chair. The little dog had curled up under it, apparently when I’d been sitting reading a magazine earlier that morning. She must have fallen asleep and spent the whole afternoon locked in the prison created by the chair’s footrest collapse. “Samantha, you bad dog,” I said, crawling under the chair rest so I could peer inside. Of course, Samantha didn’t hear me. She was curled up, snug as a well-contented, hibernating animal. I scooped her up and out and hugged her to me. Samantha, as always, was happy to see me. Her little tail beat a steady rhythm of joy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© Copyright 2003 Shaara (UN: shaara at Writing.Com).
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